Mild
by leprofessor
Summary: She really was a mild-mannered child.  An introduction to Santana Lopez.


**Character(s):** mini!Santana, mini!Brittany  
**Spoilers:** None.  
**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine and therefore I have no legal right to them. I also, have no money.  
**Note 1:** This is my first foray into writing fanfiction. I hope I don't suck too bad. **PLEASE REVIEW :)**  
**Note 2:** This is kind of like an intro piece. I'm planning on doing a long fic that I will being to write/post over my winter break. This is just like a character introduction. I'm thinking of doing a couple more of these for a few other characters, but I don't know for sure. We shall see. 

When she was born, she cried like most babies cry. Just louder. And for the first three months following her birth, she continued to cry. She cried when she was hungry, she cried when she was tired, she cried when she was cold. Mostly, she cried for her parents. In her first few weeks of life, they diligently had been there to attend to her every need. They were loving and warm, picking her up any chance they got and playing with her just to see her smile. And as much as she loved to cry, she also loved to smile. But that attentiveness did not last long, as they were very busy people with very important jobs that took priority over a crying baby. In fact, they decided quite early after her birth that she would be their only child. They began putting space between themselves and the baby.

They hired a nanny. Then they began distancing themselves from her at night unconsciously. Upon arriving home from work, they would be so exhausted that they would just put her in her crib and then go back to their master suit and fall fast asleep. When she cried during the night for any number of reasons, mostly just to see their faces and feel their warmth, she was ignored. No one came. And at first, she continued to cry. The crying turned to screaming as she used all of the power her little lungs would allow to get the attention of her parents. But even then, no one came. So eventually, the crying calmed down to brief sobs and eventually to nothing at all. Smiling? That stopped too.

Over the next couple of years, the little girl became increasingly independent. She no longer sought the comfort of her parents or anyone else for that matter. In fact, she stopped wanting anything at all. And even if there was something that she wanted, she would not cry about it. She knew that crying was not going to get her that awesome stuffed giraffe at Toys 'R Us. So why bother?

At a family barbeque, when she was two, she and her cousins played with toys while the adults partook in their own conversations. When one of her cousins attempted to snatch the little girl's toy from her hands, she put her surprisingly had quick reflexes to use and pulled her toy away in the nick of time. The cousin began crying, bemoaning the object of his affection. She wanted to tell her little cousin not to cry, that it was not going to fix anything, but she stayed quiet. His crying sent off a chain reaction. Soon all of the little girl's cousins were crying. The adults heard the commotion and came to check on the children. As they approached, they realized that all of the children were crying, except her. It was then that her aunt turned to her mother and said it for the first time,

"Wow, she is so mild-mannered. "

Between the ages of two and three, she began discovering ways to entertain herself. Ways to educate herself. The nanny would bring over books to read, and at night, while her parents were still at work or asleep in their beds, she would practice writing the letters from the books. Eventually, she began reading to herself, quite the feat for someone so young. Her parents somehow began to notice her obsession and started buying her tons of books that would occupy her time and help them feel less guilty about never being around for their daughter. By the time the little girl was four, her books became her own little world. A world that had with a big red dog, an Elephant King, a curious monkey, a stuffed bear in overalls, wild things, and more.

When her nanny would take her out to the playground to play with the other kids, she would sit on a bench, pull out the book of the week, and just escape. And the other parents or nannies with their loud and rambunctious children would come over and compliment her on being so "mild-mannered". She reacted by glaring at them, giving them the same look her nanny would use when she received a phone call while watching her soap operas. The adults would often be shocked by the little girl's hardened expression and would back away, slowly. When she was interrupted by the other kids, her glower was much more severe and it often caused the children to cry. She would smirk, enjoying the power she seemed to have over other people, and then delve deeper into her book. This was all she wanted, to be alone with her stories.

Kindergarten started at age five, and she was somewhat indifferent. She heard that school was a place where she could read, so that was cool. But it was also a place with other children and she had come to the conclusion in her very short life that she did not like other children. They were just so… needy. On her first day, her nanny told her that she would have to make friends with some of the other children in her class. In response, she said, "I don't need any more friends. "

Her nanny then sported a look of confusion, because as far as she knew, the little girl had no real friends. She never talked to the other children. In fact, she did not talk much to anyone. Who could her current friends be? As if reading her nanny's mind, the little girl spoke up.

"Well, see there's Clifford and Babar. They're pretty awesome. I mean, Babar's like a king! But they're not people, just really cool animals. Max is a person. He's kinda like a king too… in a forest… at least for a little while. And then Tintin! He's the bestest. He's super brave and goes all over the world. I wanna be just like him. "

The nanny now understood very well. The little girl's friends were the characters in her books.

"I know that these are your friends, but you need to make friends that are real people. You can play with people. You can talk to people. Real people."

A pained expression appeared on the little girl's face. "Mommy and Daddy are real people, but they never talk to me or play with me. Neither do you. You just watch boring TV all day."

At this, the nanny had no idea how to respond. How could she tell a young child that her doctor father and investment banker mother had no time for her? Or that Erica Kane, the most glamorous woman in Pine Valley, was falling in love with David Hayward, the low life doctor who was responsible for the car accident that could permanently scar her face on "All My Children". Some things were just too much for a young child to handle. So she just patted the girl's dark hair and proceeded to take the girl to school.

In her class, the little girl recognized some of the other students as kids who played in the playground she would frequent with her books. They must have recognized her too, because none of them would look her directly in the eye. As this was the first day, the teacher took all of the children outside and told them to play with each other so that they could become friends. The little girl was already unimpressed with this turn of events. When she got outside, she found herself an empty swing and opened her newest Tintin book. In the background, she heard the other kids, some laughing, some shouting, some crying. The most piercing voice was doing a combination of yelling and weeping about a Noah stealing her gold star. It really was distracting. So the little girl left the swing in search of a more quiet location to read. She found a patch of grass far far away from the howling and opened her book to resume. She had only gotten through one sentence when she realized someone moving to sit down next to her. Another little girl. One she had never seen before. She looked at the new girl, contemplated speaking to her in a chastising manner for invading her space, but decided against it and just went back to her book.

The other girl, with blonde hair that seemed to glow in the sun, continued to look straight ahead, as if not even noticing she was sitting next to someone. The two of them just sat there, not talking to each other, not even looking at each other. Just reading and staring off into nothingness. When it was finally time to go back inside, their teacher came over where the girls were sitting and looked at them admirably.

"Brittany, Santana. Have you two been sitting over here this whole time?"

The blonde girl shifted her focus from the random point in space to the other girl on her right. For the first time, the girls looked into each other's eyes. Then they turned to the teacher and nodded.

"Well, it's time to go back inside now. But, I just have to say, you two are very mild-mannered and well behaved." The teacher finished off her sentence with a large smile before turning around to collect the other, more rowdy children.

The girls looked at each other again before getting up and walking back towards the school. As they approached, the little blonde girl asked, "What were you doing?"

The dark haired girl's face became perplexed by the question. "I was reading, duh," she answered snottily while holding up the book. "Why, what were you doing?" she countered.

"Rachel lost her star. Daddy says that there are tons of stars all over, even when the sun is out. I was trying to find one to give her. But I couldn't see any. So I'll find one tonight. Oh, and… what's Santana?"

"Huh?"

"What's Santana? The teacher said Brittany Santana. My name is Brittany Pierce… is Santana like the devil? I think I've heard that before," the blonde girl, Brittany, rambled in a monotone.

The other girl could not contain her laughter as Brittany concluded her little tangent. When her laughter subsided, she replied, "I'm Santana. And I'm not the devil!"

"Good, cause I don't want my friend to be evil."

Then Santana did something that she had not done in over three years, which was a long time for a five year old child. She smiled. She had a friend. A real friend. And it wasn't something she had wanted. It wasn't something she had begged for. It wasn't something she had cried over. It was just something she now had. For the first time ever, that Santana could remember, she was happy and her book was closed.


End file.
